


You'll Be My Home

by squallina



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Devil May Cry (Anime), Devil May Cry 5 Special Edition Spoilers, Other, Post-Devil May Cry 5, surprise character reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 19:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30009468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squallina/pseuds/squallina
Summary: There are times when Dante will spend a slow afternoon sitting with a glass of alcohol and staring into the abyss of memories of the past he couldn't change or the mounting fears of how the present might change for the worse. It takes someone close to him doing something unexpected to yank him out of this dark mindset.
Relationships: Dante (Devil May Cry) & Undisclosed
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	You'll Be My Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bookworm83197](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookworm83197/gifts).



> Heavily inspired by the ending credits of the anime, but with a modern, post-DMC5 twist. I strongly recommend watching the [anime's ending credits](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MIdtKHFmLYI) before reading this story. The song from this ending, "I'll Be Your Home", is also the song Dante has stuck in his head in this story. Some of this might not align perfectly with DMCTV or DMC5 canon, but I hope you can still enjoy it.

An old ceiling fan spun lazily, each blade clearly visible as it rotated against the yellow and orange hues filtering into the room. Afternoon sunlight poured through the latticed windows on an angle, casting a yellow glow in the shape of tilted squares against the wooden floor. Despite the light coming through the windows, the Devil May Cry office was cast mostly in deep shadows. On the solid wooden desk that formed the heart of the office an old-fashioned black telephone was lit by the rays of the setting sun that beamed through the windows, but the rest of the desk - including a flimsy guitar case and the picture frame standing on one corner - was cast in shadow.

Dante was sitting motionless on the edge of the recently replaced pool table, one leg propped up against the polished timber edge. Beside him sat an opened bottle of bourbon whiskey. He was resting one arm on his raised leg, elbow against his knee and his arm dangling. In his dangling hand he held a glass of the amber liquor on the rocks. A faint, slow tune was playing over and over in his mind as he sat staring at nothing in particular.

The orange hues streaming in from the large windows weren’t enough to light most of the shop or Dante as he brooded against the pool table. The ceiling fan continued to rotate slowly overhead, creating little to no breeze in the shop.

Dante’s red coat was crushed under him as he sat against the pool table, his free hand buried in the pocket of his pants. He stared at nothing through his silver bangs and remained completely motionless. The hand holding the glass barely held on to it from above. It seemed only a matter of time before the glass would slip through his fingers and smash against the wooden floor. Condensation gathered around the base of the glass; some droplets had already fallen, marring the wood below in dark circles.

As Dante sat unmoving, dark thoughts running through his mind, he sensed the lingering presence of others who had been in his shop recently. It seemed the ghosts of the recent past were mingling with those of the distant past, each of them eager to make him relive all his doubts and fears, pulling him down into the furtherest depths of his mind.

Someone stepped into the shop. Dante could hear and see the door open and a darkly clad figure slip inside, but his vision was too unfocused, his mind too elsewhere to care who it was. He let his mind drift away again as he continued staring at nothing. The vague sounds of the front door lock clicking and bootsteps approaching reached Dante’s ears, but they weren’t enough to penetrate the poisonous reverie clouding his mind.

His mouth felt dry suddenly and he became hyperaware of the coolness of the glass against his fingertips. He found the strength to move the dangling glass upward and press the rim against his lips, but before he could tilt the glass and feel the smooth liquor on his tongue, another hand pulled the glass away from his lips.

Dante’s eyes became focused and he was distracted from his reverie by the sight of his brother bringing the opposite side of the glass to his lips and taking a sip of the liquor within. Vergil frowned in disappointment, as though the bourbon whiskey was nowhere near as refreshing as it looked in its bed of ice. Dante smirked, amused at his brother’s expression. Come to think of it, his older brother had always amused him. That train of thought was pulling him back to that dark place where his mind poked at the embers of memories from before that fateful day in both their lives.

It must have shown in his expression because Vergil scolded him. “Enough of this,” he said in a low voice, as he placed the glass down on the edge of the pool table.

Dante couldn’t help himself. “If they walked in the front door right now—”

“I locked it.”

Dante ignored his brother’s intentional interruption, “—how do you think they’d feel about this place?”

“As I said while we were in the Underworld, what does it matter? We’re still here, aren’t we?”

Dante stared at Vergil. For a moment, Dante didn’t respond, instead opting to look his brother up and down. “You are still here, aren’t you?”

“It’s not like I have anywhere else to be in the human world. I can’t exactly take care of matters in my own way without you and Nero descending upon me.”

Dante chuckled, but he was more exasperated than amused. “For the briefest moment there I had the crazy urge to hug you, but then you ruined it by being your usual pain in the ass self.”

Vergil’s eyes narrowed at the admission. “You’ve never wanted to ‘hug’ me. I would have found you less annoying if a brief moment of physical closeness would have granted me some peace from your usual violent self.”

“Ha! Look who’s talking! All you seem to be able to do is—”

Vergil raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Enough!” he growled. “I won’t be dragged down into your mood.”

Dante fell silent, all signs of humor fading from his expression. His vision became blurred and distant again. He idly reached for the glass Vergil had set down, but Vergil teleported to stand even closer in front of him and took the glass out of Dante’s hand again. Dante watched dumbly, his eyes widening as Vergil raised the glass, threw his head back and downed the entire amber contents in one gulp. Vergil slammed the glass down on the edge of the pool table and leaned into Dante with a muttered, single-word curse.

Vergil was so close to him that Dante could feel the intense warmth radiating off his brother. He could also smell the blood of demons mingling with the scent that was distinct to those carrying the blood of Sparda. Their father had been warm like this and had carried that scent the strongest of them all. Being so close to Vergil while not fuelled by the adrenaline of combat was bringing back childhood memories of waking to find Vergil sleeping beside him, Vergil clumsily breaking Dante’s fall when Dante overestimated the sturdiness of a tree branch, and that one time when they had ventured too far from home under a black sky and had been forced to take shelter in a tiny, narrow cavern that barely fit them both when the fierce storm had finally broke.

Dante’s arms shot up around Vergil and pulled him close in a firm hug. His brother stiffened, but didn’t withdraw. After a few moments, the arm not constantly clutching the Yamato at Vergil’s side even came up to settle across Dante’s shoulders.

“You’re really still here,” Dante murmured close to Vergil’s ear. 

“I am,” Vergil replied.

“Stay this time?”

The warmth and weight of Vergil’s arm around Dante’s shoulders lifted and Vergil shifted to pull himself away from Dante. The younger twin was reluctant to let go; he loosened his grip and allowed Vergil to pull away but trailed his hands down Vergil’s arms, his fingertips finally settling as they brushed against the bare skin of Vergil’s wrists under the sleeves of the coat.

“Dante,” Vergil began carefully.

“What do you need?” Dante whispered. “If it’s to be more like Father, we can find other ways—”

“Time,” Vergil replied. He took a full step back out of Dante’s reach. “And space.”

“I can give you both,” Dante promised.

“Your self-control is notoriously terrible,” Vergil replied. “Though I’m more than aware your obsession with me in your younger years was likely fuelled by boredom as well as our sibling connection.”

Dante chuckled. “That whiskey still affecting your brain a little?”

“I doubt it,” Vergil replied. “Are you done brooding for today?”

“Only if it means I get to keep you.”

Vergil huffed a sigh. “There goes that self-control. Go upstairs so I can clear up down here.”

A small smirk and an amused sound came from Dante. “You make it sound like you live here.”

“And you make it sound like I don’t,” Vergil retorted without missing a beat. He gathered the glass of ice and bottle of bourbon and deposited them in the kitchenette hidden behind the main office.

“I guess that means you’re staying,” Dante called.

“If it will quell your human insecurities, I am staying for the meantime, Dante,” said Vergil, striding out of the kitchen and towards the wall switches. In one move that was faster than Dante’s lazy sideways gaze could catch, Vergil swiped off all the power to the main office. They both heard the quiet _zzt_ of the main neon sign switching off. The one fan that spun lazily on the ceiling slowed to a stop. Without another word, Vergil made his way up the shadowed staircase to the living quarters beyond the main office.

It was barely sunset and their bodies rarely needed much rest outside intense fighting sessions, but after a long day spent with distant memories Dante could hear his bed calling. He stood and turned away from the pool table to disappear into the depths of his home.


End file.
